Insomnia
by CastielAndTheBlueBox
Summary: Some nights were better than others. Steve/Bucky


Some nights were better than others.

Most of the time, the sheer prospect of sleeping was a fear. Memories of cryo danced behind his eyelids every time he closed them, as the pain ripped though his brain and tore the memories from his grasp as he was put to sleep until they needed him again.

Until they needed someone dead.

Those were the nights he awoke with a scream, metal and flesh attempting to tear away the memories of being operated on, of having his memories taken time and time again, of falling from that damn train as Steve shouted for him, willed him to live.

Some nights his sleep was without dreams.

Those were the good nights, the ones that didn't come often.

Some nights, he didn't sleep. It wasn't hard to find a nocturnal companion now that he'd somehow found himself part of the mix-and-match team they call the Avengers. He wasn't sure why he'd agreed to join them, he was antisocial at best. To repent, perhaps.

He hated how they looked at him. Clint offered outright suspicion, while Banner and Stark were a little too keen on prodding him, interested in the serum and arm respectively, wanting to know what made him tick. Natasha gave him looks of pure hatred sometimes, while subconsciously rubbing her arm or hip, and Steve... Steve was still looking for someone else.

But at night, they were on even footing. He and Barton would watch movies, Banner would talk to him over tea, Stark would work on something while sharing (over sharing) his life stories, and Natasha would just silently hand him a glass of vodka.

For some reason, he could never find Steve.

That remained the case for so long until one of those nights. He came down and the Captain was staring straight ahead, eyes red raw. He glanced up when James came through and offered him a tight grin.

That was another thing he hated about it, how they acted like he was make of fucking _glass_, and if they looked at him the wrong way, they'd have a bullet through their skull.

"Hey, Buck." Steve greeted. Normally, James would correct him, remind him he was _not _Bucky, despite how bad he felt when he got the Captain America Face Crumple.

But the man was already in tears (or he had been, anyway) and since there was no one else about to comfort him (damn) he'd have to try.

"What's wrong?" he asked, even managing to inject sympathy into his monotone.

He cared about Steve, hell, loved him (he was pretty sure). But 'feelings' weren't easy for him. Hence why he wasn't _entirely_ sure how he felt about Steve.

But he'd try to help.

"Peggy... she's... uh..." he looked ready to cry again, and there was no need for him to finish that sentence. James knew.

Bucky Barnes screamed like a wounded animal in agony.

James sat next to Steve and hoped to God his presence was enough to soothe the other man.

He wasn't sure how long they sat there, but exhaustion was creeping in as the sun rose over the horizon, and he turned to suggest to Steve that maybe the should get some sleep, only to find the other staring at him.

Odd. He usually felt stares.

Steve blinked.

He blinked.

Slowly, _slowly_, they moved closer, james not even aware any more, Bucky was the one in charge of kissing Steve, it seemed.

_Mine_ flashed through his mind like a shot, and when his lips touched Steve's, he physically recoiled, memories tearing through him, burning themselves on top of the Winter Soldier, not eradicating nor replacing the man he'd been for the last seventy years, but reminding him of who he _should _have been.

When he opened his eyes, Steve's expression was of shock, horror, embarrassment.

"James, I..." he began, and _Bucky_ laughed a little, light, carefree, because the one time Steve got it right, he couldn't've been more wrong._  
_

"Not my name, punk. Well, it is, technically, but I think we should go back to where we used to be." he mumbled, pulling Steve into him.

"...Bucky?" he asked, and Bucky grinned, lips tugged upwards in a way both familiar and strange.

"The one and only."

That night, for the first time in seventy years, Bucky slept peacefully.


End file.
